


mind like a haunted house

by sundogs



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Nightmares, lasagna also, theyre brothers......
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28772850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundogs/pseuds/sundogs
Summary: In this dream, he sits in a grass field. Its texture is rough on his hands and legs, and the sun is shining on his face, covering him like a gentle hug.In this dream, he doesn’t hear footsteps. So when he turns his head to the right and sees a mirror of himself, he freezes.---or: techno has a dream, and ghostbur has too many questions
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	mind like a haunted house

Technoblade’s bed is warm. Here, with an axe under the frame and his door locked tight, he feels the safest. The blanket is a nice weight on his body, and the wind brushes on his face. 

Before he knows it, he’s asleep. 

In his good dreams, Techno’s mind is quiet. It’s this: If all day he has a storm in his head and fire in his heart and the desire to destroy and protect and avenge, in his dreams his mind is a clear ocean, a taste of the normalcy other people have. 

In this dream, he sits in a grass field. Its texture is rough on his hands and legs, and the sun is shining on his face, covering him like a gentle hug. 

In this dream, he doesn’t hear footsteps. So when he turns his head to the right and sees a mirror of himself, he freezes. 

“How long have you been here?” Techno asks and sits up. Wilbur’s lips stretch into a smile, a smug one, and it reminds him of the times Wilbur won a sparring round and he was knocked to the ground. 

He answers, “I’m always here, Techno.”

The sun melts, and Wilbur reaches out a hand to Techno’s shoulder. Technoblade feels his skin through his shirt, the familiar warmth only Wilbur ever held. 

“Is my death tearing you apart?”

“What?” 

“I asked, do you remember growing up together? We spent years sleeping in the same room.”

Wilbur’s voice is low when he speaks, and his eyes penetrate Techno like a sword. Wilbur always held this ability to look right through him. To guess what he thinks, even better than Techno himself can. It always made him feel vulnerable, the type of feeling he never feels comfortable holding around anyone else. 

But Wilbur is safe. 

“I do,” Techno says, and there's a second of silence, a second where Wilbur’s hand clenches around his shoulder, and Techno adds, “I miss you.”

Wilbur chuckles. The sun is still melting, its long rays providing only light but no comfort. Around him, the grass feels vaguely like egg shells.

“Wilbur,” Techno repeats, “Do you remember when we had to beat up that kid who annoyed Tommy? Do you remember when Phil first taught us to hold a sword?”

 _Please remember,_ Techno thinks, _I don’t want to carry these memories alone._

Wilbur opens his mouth and then closes it, but as he puts his other hand on Techno’s left shoulder, Techno notices a small nod. 

Wilbur pulls him into a hug, and the second his head hits Wilbur’s chest, Techno can’t do anything but hug back. Wilbur’s yellow sweater, the warmth of his touch, the memories, they’re real, they’re real, they’re _real_. Not a ghost. He isn’t a ghost. 

Techno hasn't been hugged like this since he was 19 and Phil left the house for the last time. 

He thinks he might cry. 

“Don’t cry,” Wilbur laughs, but Techno can’t help the tears that roll down his cheek when he opens his eyes. 

The voices are instantly back. They always hit him strong in the mornings, his brain having to contain all of them again after hours of rest. 

_It was a dream_ , Techno thinks, and sits up, and throws his pillow on the opposite of his wall. The tears are real, but Wilbur was a dream, and he’s dead. He’s dead. What a cruel dream. What a cruel joke. 

The voices say, _calm down_ and _it’s fine_ , but they can't feel the twist of his stomach. 

He throws the blanket off him and stands up. Turns on the light. The stairs creak as he walks to the first floor, and then he’s greeted by an enderman in a boat, a few dogs, and a ghost.

“I brought food,” ghostbur says, and Techno thinks, _you’re the last thing I want to see right now you’re always here you cling to me like a parasite but you barely even know who I am you should’ve disappeared and never come back_

He says, “okay.”

Ghostbur smiles and walks to the crafting table. There, he puts down a glass box wrapped in a blanket. Techno watches him open it slowly. 

“It’s lasagna,” Ghostbur mentions, and tilts his head back, in some way that a human being wouldn't manage, and then he points at his face, “did you cry?”

“What?”

“There are tear tracks on your face. You cried. Silly of me to ask. Are you okay?”

Techno crosses his arms over his chest and tries his best not to wipe those tears off, because he doesn’t want to look like a child, because he knows he’ll just cry more.

“I had a nightmare,” he answers, and Ghostbur turns away completely from the lasagna to focus on his face.

“What was it about?”

“Why does it matter?” Techno asks, “you won’t be able to help anyways.”

Ghostbur frowns and reaches into his pocket. Techno knows what he’s going to do before he even takes it out. The dream started a fire inside him, and Ghostbur’s childish innocence worsens the flames. 

He reaches out to stop him from taking it out, and his hand goes right through him. Ghostbur glances up at him, his eyes a dead sea, and finishes taking out the blue.

Techno stares at his hand. He pulls it back, and then brings it up against Ghostbur’s chest. The ghost lets him. He puts it through his chest, and apart from a faint coldness from where Ghostbur’s body is supposed to be… He feels nothing. 

“That’s cruel,” Techno says, “you can touch objects but not humans.”

“Well,” Ghostbur’s high pitched voice turns shy, “I guess it’s another punishment for the bad thing I did. I don’t know why.”

Techno sighs. Ghostbur tilts his head like a curious dog. 

“Even if I told you what you did,” Techno started, “you’d forget it. And, anyways, in my eyes it wasn’t even a bad thing. You did fine.”

Ghostbur steps back and his hands drop to his sides. 

“I did?”

“Yes,” Techno answers. “You did great, even if you died. What an unfortunate ending. I would want to thank the real Wilbur, not you.”

“Do you miss him?” Ghostbur asks, and Techno clenches his hand into a fist. The familiar question echoes in his mind. 

The voices say, _we do. we do. we do._

Techno answers, “every death of a person you knew leaves some kind of hole in you. The absence of a person is hard to ignore.”

Ghostbur nods. His eyes don’t leave Techno’s face. It isn’t the same, but he feels himself sweat. 

Another second passes, and then Ghostbur laughs. “Tommy misses him too,” he says, and Techno silently curses the ghost for not listening, “but for him it seems more complicated. He hurt Tommy, you know. I don’t think I-“

“Can we not talk about Tommy right now?” Techno asks and steps forward for what feels the first time in days. 

_Do you miss him?_

He takes the lasagna box and puts it gently inside one of his chests. 

“Can you tell me more about him? the alive wilbur?”

“I said it already,” Techno stands up, “you’ll forget it anyways.”

“That’s fine,” he waves his hand, and his tone is excited. “In this moment. Let me remember just in this moment. Only the good stuff.”

Techno has never been so jealous of a being.

The voices call for blood, mistaking the jealousy for rage, but ghosts cannot bleed, and Techno can’t watch his brother die again. He pushes them down. 

“He was okay,” Techno starts, and Ghostbur’s smile grows. “He was… the kind of person that radiates warmth. The kind of person to always help, a musician, a writer, a lot of things.”

“Do you have any good memories of him?”

“Yes,” Techno says through clenched teeth. His head hurts. “I do.”

He thinks about the Wilbur in his dream. He thinks about how he remembered everything. 

_Don't leave me with these memories alone._

Techno stands up. Ghostbur follows him with his eyes, and then runs after him when Techno walks out the door. The sun isn’t shining. The clouds paint the sky an ugly, terrible gray.

Ghostbur says, “I also have trouble remembering things. It makes my head hurt.”

Technoblade says, “you left me.”

Ghostbur turns his head to him, and Techno looks back. Looks in the mirror. 

“I didn’t. Wilbur did.” Ghostbur says, “I’m just a shell of who he was. A ghost.” 

Techno stays quiet. The sky roars again.

_I’m always here, Techno._

“Both of you haunt me,” he finally says, “memories are just a different kind of ghost. You both make my head hurt.” 

Ghostbur stares at him for a few seconds, and then laughs. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed thiss english isnt my first language so sorry 4 any mistakes lol


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